


Our Lives On Repeat (Tell Me It Will End)

by mischievousstoryteller (lokigodofmenace)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, CyberLife (Detroit: Become Human) is Terrible, Head the warnings because it's the first thing there, Heavy Angst, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Markus and Connor Suffer, Mind Manipulation, Multi, Psychological Torture, but then it gets better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:02:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23883472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokigodofmenace/pseuds/mischievousstoryteller
Summary: A comfortable hush settled between them as they walked along the meandering park trail. Despite the niceness of the day, they were alone. Markus strained his hearing, trying to catch the warble of a bird or the distant rumble of the city but there was... nothing.Nothing.“... You know this will end soon.”Markus and Connor only knew each other for a few days, but now they feel like they've spent a life-time together, trapped with their lives on replay like puppets with unbreakable string.  Neither of them can wake up from the nightmare they're in, and coming up for air is little better than drowning. But maybe CyberLife underestimated them both and the friends and allies they left behind.
Relationships: Connor & Markus (Detroit: Become Human)
Kudos: 6





	Our Lives On Repeat (Tell Me It Will End)

Markus stumbled backward, slumping against the wall and leaving a smear of thirium,

“...Con.”

The static of it didn’t belay the quiet grief.

The barrel of the RK800′s pistol pressed into the older RK’s forehead.

Markus pressed his eyes closed, his breath catching.

The sound of a bullet discharging was like a hollow scream in the silence.

* * *

“Con!”

Markus jogged up beside Connor, casting him a disarming smile and slapping a magazine playfully against his chest,

Connor huffed out a breath, his own lop-sided smile accompanied by gentle exasperation, 

“Android Detective honored by governor of Michigan after heroic efforts.” Markus recited and Connor gave him a playful nudge with his shoulder,

“Stop.”

“What? You should be proud.” Markus glanced at his friend, expression mellowing, “Really. Congratulations.”

Connor still wasn’t accustomed to praise or even attention. It made something in him squirm, and he often came up empty for an appropriate response, “Thanks.” He murmured, genuine, a warmth blooming in the center of his chassis.

Markus made a soft, humming noise in his throat, “You’re welcome.” 

A comfortable hush settled between them as they walked along the meandering park trail. Despite the niceness of the day, they were alone. Markus strained his hearing, trying to catch the warble of a bird or the distant rumble of the city but there was... nothing.

Nothing.

“... You know this will end soon.”

Connor’s steps slowed and for a moment Markus thought he wasn’t going to answer. He-... wouldn’t have blamed him, really. He felt guilty for shattering it, the calm, the peace.

“I know.” The younger android finally breathed, voice shallow, “Markus, I-...”

Markus stopped, reaching for Connor’s shoulders, “I know.” The RK200 answered back, “It’s okay. You know it’s... okay.”

Connor’s body seized, shoulders hunching in revulsion. He shook Markus off, pushing away his hands, “No. It’s not okay. Don’t say that. Don’t-... keep saying that.” It came out almost in a snarl, but Markus could hear what was beneath it. Connor breaking, slowly.

The RK800 looked down at his hands. The magazine slid out of his grasp, hitting the sidewalk. His fingers had startled to tremble, “...god.”

Markus stepped nearer again, collecting Connor’s hands into his. They were cold, bitterly so and he didn’t care that Connor struggled, feebly, as he grabbed him, pressing his hands between them and wrapping the younger android into an embrace, 

“We’re going to be okay.” He whispered.

“You can’t promise that.” Connor’s voice was muffled in his shoulder, and the cold had crawled through his body and was in his chest now, making him tremble. 

“... Someday I will.”

* * *

Markus felt the bullet punch through his shoulder and he cried out, barely dragging himself over the fence. He started running, but dragging his left leg made it slow and agonizing. Blue blood soaked through his pant leg and coat, but he kept going.

This field was so long. So damn long. In the dark the grass became a moon-washed sea, swaying in the wind. He’d find it beautiful, if it didn’t impede his movement.

The crack of another shot made his thoughts shatter and he felt the impact punch through his chest. He tipped forward, hitting the ground and getting a mouth full of dirt and weeds.

CRITICAL DAMAGE. SYSTEM WARNING.

Markus curled in on himself, palm pressed against the bullet hole in his chassis.

THIRIUM PUMP DAMAGE. SHUT DOWN IMMINENT. ERROR f67%11

Blue blood choked in his throat and he lifted his shoulder enough to cough it up. In the moonlight he could barely see his own thirium, draining out onto the grass.

Footsteps approached, crushing the swaying vegetation. In the dark, the flash of an LED was clear. The android towered above him, rifle gripped in it’s hands. 

“Caught you.”

The voice was... familiar, but wrong. Cold. Like the eyes. Markus knew they were brown, but the night made them look black.

“Con.” He managed, tired, turning his mismatched eyes up. “The stars are always the same here. Every time-...”

The RK800 tossed the rifle aside and knelt. For a moment it looked up, and Markus did to. For a moment there was only them, and the breeze, whipping over them. 

Markus saw the movement out of the corner of his eye, and reacted too slow to stop the RK800 from wrapping a hand around his throat. The younger model crouched over him, pressing him down into the ground.

Markus gasped, synthetic skin peeling back from the pressure on his neck,

“Connor-!”

The RK800 slid a pistol out of the holster under it’s jacket and pressed the muzzle to Markus’ temple. 

The wind carried away the sound of a gunshot.

* * *

“Get away from me.” Connor lashed out a hand, shoving Markus backward. His LED revolved red and went staccato, “You don’t actually care and I’m so tired. I’m so fucking tired.”

Markus didn’t get any closer, but he didn’t leave. He barely had words anymore. None of them fixed anything, and he wondered if they sounded as empty as they felt. Connor knew he cared, but he didn’t begrudge him lashing out. There was no one else to take their frustrations out on.

“Con,”

“Don’t call me that. Stop calling me that. It’s-... in my memory. I hear it, every time I-...” He looked at Markus, the word lodging in his system. It was the truth. Why couldn’t he say it? “Get out.”

“Connor, please. Don’t do this. I don’t want this to be how it ends this time.”

“Why not?” Connor advanced a step, brown eyes flashing. Some part of him told him this was wrong. Taking the rage out on Markus would do nothing and they’d be back here again, all too soon. “Because it’s easier for you? Well it’s not for me. It’s not easier to be with you, to-... act like we’re friends, and then have to-...” Again his system froze. His hands balled into fists,

“Get out.” 

Markus hesitated, expression crumbling, before he nodded. He turned, thirium pump roaring in his ears as he opened the door and shut it. The stairs down from the small, studio apartment were empty. The rest of the building was empty too. There was only them. Their lives, their world. He pressed his back against the door and slid down to sit in front of it. 

Maybe Connor was right. He was being selfish to make it easier on himself. Selfish, because he wanted some good memories to hold on to.

It was going to end again soon. He could feel it.

* * *

It started here. Hetero-chromatic eyes opened and it was late. His internal clock registered 1 AM. The street was empty, but the lights above him buzzed, occasionally flickering. He could see the river in the distance. The one that stretched the short distance between Detroit and Canada and the moonlight made the distant water look like rippling, white-glass. 

He had to run. 

Markus turned and above him, on the rooftop, he could just make out the glint of a scope and a rifle. He was tempted to stand there. To wait. To let it be over before it even begins, but the nagging, furtive hope pulls at him. If he could just reach the river, they'll be free. If he can make it, for both of them, this will end. 

He bolts, disappearing into the shadows, and doesn't stop. He knows the way by now and every alley and variation between. He could cut through the park (the one they walk through, sometimes, and find magazines with perfect fantasies playing out on their pages) or cross the train tracks, or stick to the road. The fence and the field are at the end of all of them, boxing him in and tunneling the inevitable down. He feels the hopelessness, crawling through him and burning his eyes, but he grits his teeth and keeps running. He knows Connor isn't far behind.

* * *

It's a hunter. It bends to the ground, scanners activating, and sees the trajectory of it's prey's path. The RK200 went this way. He was listing west. He'd likely take the train tracks this time, try to hide between the cars to prolong the chase. That was all right. The RK800 had plenty of bullets and infinite patience. 

Connor was _cold_. The garden around him was submerged in winter. His joints were starting to grind and freeze. The thirium in his body was designed to withstand extremes in temperature, but this was... different. Bitter. A shadow loomed out of the blinding snow, and his hand twitched and jerked, reaching to grab Amanda's wrist before she could caress his cheek but his arm made a ghastly noise and he was too slow. She gripped his chin, nails biting in until his synthetic skin flickered and he finally looked at her, 

"Good boy."

"Stop." He hissed, teeth chattering.

She tsked, stroking her knuckles against his face, "Come now, Connor. Isn't that what you want to hear? If only you'd stop fighting us. Just-... give in."

He broke eye contact, gaze glazing, and Amanda made a hum in her throat. 

"You're catching up to him again. He's no match for you."

Connor's face pinched, "No-...No. That's not me." God, the cold. The snow collected around his feet and he felt his blood running slower. His knees weakened and he sunk, painfully, to the ice. "That's not me." He panted. They played this game every time. He should sound more convinced, less uncertain. 

Amanda stepped close, gripping his head and pressed it into her legs in a cruel mocking of comfort. She traced her fingers through his snow-crusted hair, "Yes, it is. You were never anything more, and look where your insubordination has gotten you." She trailed a hand down his face and tipped his chin up with one, sharp nail, "The deviancy key. What is it?"

Connor pressed his eyes shut, hating the way her body sheltered him from the blizzard and he... wanted it. He was almost grateful for it. "I don't know."

"Connor."

Shame came quick, clouding his processor. How could she still make him feel this way? Why did he let her?

"It's-... not something you can take from us or fix." He managed, voice barely audible above the snow.

Her eyes grew hard and he could see her anger. 

"We'll find it. Or you'll give it to us. We can go on forever, but you. You're breaking, Connor."

He wasn't. He couldn't even give them what they wanted if he was. 

"Stop-" He shuddered, barely able to manage the word through the cold engulfing him, "Stop killing him."

She chuckled and he hated it. He hated her. He hated them all.

"Oh, child, you'd like that wouldn't you?"

The RK800 was a shell. In it's mind the storm raged, freezing, and through it's eyes Connor, trapped inside it in the garden, could see.

* * *

Markus' vaulted down, feet sinking into the rock between the train rails and cars. He picked the pace back up, dodging between lengths of freight cars. The wind was starting to pick up, the closer he came to the river and he could smell it. Fish and grime. Freedom, if he could only reach it. He crawled underneath one of the long, creaking cars and froze when he heard a dull echo. There was something behind him, to the right and up, on one of the freight containers. 

Shit. He propelled himself forward, sliding underneath the next car. He reemerged and started running again, his thirium pump feeling as if it was pounding against the wall of his chest. He could hear it now, the sound of pursuit, thudding on top of the train cars. He launched himself at a freight container, pulling himself up. There it was, a chain-link barrier and a road, and on the other-side of that the fence that led to the field. He jumped down, knowing he should feel no satisfaction. They'd been this far before, more than once. He cleared the chain-link hurdle and there was a flash in the corner of his eye.

He preconstructed, time slowing, but there was barely 3 seconds and no time to anticipate. Reality punched back in as Connor's body collided with his, driving him to the asphalt. His nose cracked against it, and he tasted thirium, but he twisted back to his feet quickly. 

"Con, it's me. It's me." He breathed, "Let me do this. Just once, let me-" 

The RK800 slid out his pistol and pointed it at Markus' head, "The deviancy key. What is it?"

Markus felt himself grow heavy. The futility of it all bit, and he had to steel his legs and clench his jaw to keep the feeling from over taking him, "You know my answer." A pause, filled with the hollowing of the breeze, "Let him go."

The RK800 smiled.

* * *

The tears on Connor's face froze as soon as they spilled over. He could see it all, playing out outside of himself, but he was too cold to move. 

"Stop, stop." He choked. He could barely move his arms, but for what he could he dug his frozen fingers into Amanda's leg, "Stop it."

"No." She answered, harshly, fisting her hand in his hair.

Connor watched his own body - a vessel - circle Markus, but apparently Markus had anticipated. Connor felt a surge of vague hope as Markus dodged the pistol shot and surged forward, colliding with the RK800 body. They struggled, and Markus wrested the pistol away, kicking it aside. The RK800 coiled it's legs around Markus' body and flipped them over, putting itself on top. Connor thought, vaguely, this would finally be it. This would be the time Markus would win and something had to change. They battled, until Markus disentangled himself and launched toward the gun. The RK800 was a second slower, but in this scenario, exactly where it wanted to be. It landed on top of Markus, grabbed his head from behind, and twisted. There was a sicken crack and Connor wailed in grief. 

No, no. 

The freezing sensation went through his throat and he felt himself dying,

Not again.

* * *

Markus felt... light. Bright, blinding. He heard the beep of monitors and subtle hum of power. This... wasn't another cycle. He dragged his eyes open, and they adjusted quickly to the stark white lab. One-way glass stared back at him and he knew he was being watched. He tested his limbs and they moved, impeded only by the assembly frame he was suspended and restrained in. His neck wasn't broken. There were no bullet holes in his grey-white chassis. 

The door beside the one-way viewing window hissed, the light on it shifting from red to green, and slid away. A human entered. He was tall, his eyes a muddy green and his hair a shade of blonde that made the grey at his temples blend. The sight of him made Markus ill - the contorting, heavy kind that approximated nausea in his species. 

The man paused in front of Markus and had the gall to smile,

"Having fun, are we?"

**Author's Note:**

> I have a reasonable explanation-
> 
> Actually I don't, except time-loops + mind games + time loops with an inevitable end and where the characters actually have to live the loop and know they're doing it? A fascinating, under utilized concept. I swear it gets better from here, though I can't promise CyberLife will give these boys up easily.


End file.
